


Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

by russianmango



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianmango/pseuds/russianmango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick gets drunk and visits Jonny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt that I lost the link to, but it was basically player A gets drunk and tells player b he's gay and he loves him.

It’s three in the morning. He should be at home sleeping in his bed. Instead Jonathan is in his car, forced to pick Patrick up from a skeezy night club after a long night.

He really shouldn’t be surprised when Pat does something stupid and irresponsible, and yet he always is. Every single time. He had hoped that maybe Pat’s self-destructive behaviour would slow down with after the incident with the cab driver, and it seemed to be for a while, but this – well, Jonathan knew it wasn’t good.

Jonathan wasn’t against having a beer every now and then. He knew there was a need to kick back sometimes. But Patrick running up a huge tab, insulting waitresses, and crying like a lunatic wasn’t going to help anyone.

Jonathan was surprised to find out that Pat was in Winnipeg - for God knows what reason, because Patrick hadn’t even called to tell him he was coming. Finding out he was in a bar didn’t come as much of a surprise, though; it was kind of his style. Pestering waitresses and dancers wasn’t like him though. Neither was crying in public.

It took Jonathan forever to get Patrick to stop crying and get up off the floor, where he’d been lying with his head between his knees. Pat almost seemed to get worse when Jonathan showed up, like he hadn’t expected him to be there.

Patrick didn't say much as he sat in the back of Jon's truck, fighting with himself to not throw up. Jonathan kept an eye on him in the rear-view mirror as he made his way back to his house - he didn't know if Pat had a hotel and didn't bother asking. Jonathan wouldn't leave him alone in this condition anyway.

He pulled into the driveway and sighed as he looked back to find Patrick sleeping. Great, he'd have to drag him inside.

Luckily Patrick doesn't really weigh that much, and he's easier to carry than Jon expected. He smiled at the short jokes he could have made, and would have for them not being wasted on unconsciousness.

Jonathan dragged Patrick inside the house, flopping his sleeping body on the couch. Pat made a gargling moan and began to toss and turn, moving himself almost completely off the couch. “Guess you’re not going to bed tonight, Johnny,” Jonathan whispered to himself as he settled Patrick back on the couch, covering him with a blanket. Deciding that it wasn’t in his best interest to leave Pat alone for the night, he rested himself on a nearby chair.

Jonathan’s vision was still hazy when he was woken up by a loud thud. Patrick had fallen onto the floor, inches away from banging his head on the corner of the coffee table. Jonathan rolled his eyes, annoyed and over-tired, as he decided to move Patrick into the bedroom. He figured that Pat would be less likely to fall if he was sleeping in Jonathan’s king-sized bed – plus, there was enough room so Jonathan could actually lie down and get some sleep, too.

 

Jonathan buried his head in his pillow, hoping to block out the sound of Patrick's loud breathing. What he couldn't block out though was Patrick's tendency to talk in his sleep when he was drunk. Patrick wasn't really saying anything, but enough that Jonathan's subconscious wouldn't stop paying attention. Jonathan began to wonder if he should wake him up when Patrick said something that caught his attention: “Johnny, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me.”

What did Patrick have to be sorry for? True, he did come to Winnipeg and get unbelievably drunk, forcing Jonathan to take care of him... Could it just be a dream, or is there something bigger on Patrick’s mind?

2

Jonathan woke up to the sound of Patrick vomiting. “Delightful,” he mumbled, looking over his shoulder, thankful that he remembered to leave a bucket next to the bed.

“Johnny?” Patrick spat out weakly, surprised to hear Jonathan’s voice.

“I picked you last night, remember? You were a wreck, so I took you here,” Jonathan assumed he probably didn't have a vivid memory of the previous night.

“I- but- we- what?” he asked. Before Jonathan could reply, Pat jerked back toward the bucket and continued throwing up.

“I'm gonna make you some toast, okay?”

Patrick groaned in response as he continued to hang his head over the bucket, which Jonathan thought may have been a little over-dramatic. It wasn't Pat’s first hangover, after all.

“Here, you'll feel better after getting something inside you,” Jonathan said, as he handed Patrick a plate of toast and a bottle of Gatorade. Patrick's head rose slowly from the pillow, then he took the plate and bottle. “Small sips, Pat,” Jonathan warned.

Patrick shot Jonathan a quick glare before taking a big gulp of the Gatorade. Jonathan shook his head and watched as, moments later, the Gatorade had made a comeback. A good third of the bottle came rushing back out of Patrick’s mouth, just barely making it into the bucket.

“Told you,” Jonathan said, passing Pat a tissue to wipe his face with. He sat down in a chair nearby and put the lid back on the bottle, placing it on the desk when it was closed. When Patrick finished throwing up, he reached for his toast.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Patrick ate his toast. Jonathan could tell he wasn't in a good mood and seemed to be mad at him for some unknown reason. It's not like Jonathan is the one who showed up unannounced to Patrick’s hometown and threw up all over Pat’s house. Somehow he didn't think he was going to receive an apology for that.

“Thanks,” Patrick muttered as he placed the plate on the floor.

“Pat?”

Patrick curled his legs up to his chest. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“What?”

“Leave me alone!” Patrick replied, glaring at Jonathan again.

“Pat, are you okay?” Jonathan asked again, putting his hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

Patrick slapped it away. “I said fuck off, Toews!” he yelled.

“What the fuck, Kaner?” Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Why are you mad at me? I’m the one who helped you out!”

Patrick turned to face Jonathan. “Oh, I’m sorry, Captain - I didn’t know it was considered ‘help’ for people to take advantage of their friends! Thanks for letting me know!”

Jonathan was so confused, he couldn’t think of anything to say other than asking, “What?”

“Oh, fuck off! I trusted you, Johnny!” Patrick yelled, and then stood up and quickly walked out of the room.

“Hey,” Jonathan called after Patrick, following him into the living room. “What the fuck are you talking about, Kaner? How did I take advantage of you?”

“How exactly does fucking me when I’m fucking wasted help me out? Because I -”

“What?” Jonathan cut him off. “Pat, I didn’t - nothing happened!”

Patrick rolled his eyes, a look of shame and embarrassment on his face. “I came here to see you, got a little drunk so it would be easier to talk you, and – God, Johnny.”

“Patrick, you know I would never do that to you, right? Is it because we slept in the same bed?” he asked. “I just didn’t want you to fall or anything, you know? You were so drunk. We never - nothing happened! I wouldn’t do that to you, Pat!”

Patrick shook his head and sighed.

Jonathan looked Patrick in the eyes, “Listen, you were really drunk. The bartender called me to get you. You were on the floor- it took me forever to get you into the truck.”

“Really?” Patrick asked.

“You were talking in your sleep though. You kept saying you were sorry, and you said my name. That's all you said,” Jonathan said, “I didn't mean to listen, I just sort of heard. I was worried about you.”

“You were?” Patrick asked.

Jonathan nodded. “I didn’t know you were coming; what was I supposed to think? You just happened to come to the glorious city of Winnipeg for fun and not tell me you were here? Then get kicked out of the bar for heckling the waitresses- not to mention the bar was a total skeeze-hole. I got there and you were crying and freaking out, Patrick.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just- I didn't know what to do,” Patrick said, staring down at the floor.

“Why did you come here, anyway? Why didn't you call me?” Jonathan asked, moving to catch Patrick's gaze.

Patrick tried to look away, but gave up and looked at Jonathan. “I was going to. I wanted to talk to you, but I chickened out,” Patrick said, looking away again. “I just wanted to have a few drinks to calm myself down a bit, and next thing I know...”

“Pat -” Jonathan started, but was cut off by Patrick.

“I know! I'm sorry, I'm so stupid! I should have just shut up and stayed home,” Patrick said, hiding his head in his knees.

“Patrick, why wouldn't you want to talk to me?”

Patrick shrugged. “I don't know; I thought you'd be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” Jonathan asked.

Patrick paused, taking a couple of slow, deep breaths before speaking. “Johnny, I’m gay.”

Jonathan is quiet and he can tell that Patrick is examining his face for emotion, not knowing what to say.

Patrick looks away from Jonathan’s face and closes his eyes. “It’s you,” he says finally.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Patrick answers, a blush coming to his cheeks. “I didn’t want to say anything. My plan was just to keep it secret, but I just - I didn’t know what to do anymore.”

“You really, like, actually like me?” Jonathan asks again.

Patrick has trouble deciphering Jonathan’s facial expression and panics. “Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything, okay? We’ll go back to normal. I’m Kaner, you’re Tazer, and I never said anything. I’m just normal – nothing is different, okay?”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Patrick, trying not to seem too cold, but he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to go for a walk, clear his mind and think about what's happening but he can't without seeming like a dick.

He knows he should say something, but he isn't sure of what he could say. Fortunately, his phone rings from the other room, saving him from the awkwardness of grasping for words. He pauses before leaving the room.

On the other line, Jonathan’s friend is reminding him that he agreed to help move some things with him. Jonathan had forgotten he promised he would help him move, but was kind of glad he had an excuse to get out of the house - he needed some time to think about what to say to Pat, and sitting around the house with him wasn't going to solve anything.

Patrick walks into the living room as Jonathan hangs up the phone. “Friend of yours?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah, it was Mike. I promised I'd help him out this weekend. I hope you don't mind? I shouldn't be too long,” Jonathan says awkwardly.

Patrick nods, “Yeah, that's fine. Mind if I stay here? I kinda don't know my way around.”

“Yeah, sure. I'll see you when I get back, okay?” Jonathan says, picking up his jacket and keys.

“Okay,” Patrick says flatly. Jonathan nods as he leaves.

3

Jonathan drives slower than usual on his way to his friend Mike's place. He's not trying to avoid Patrick, but he really doesn't know what to say and he doesn't want to hurt him.

He pulls up to the curb in front of Mike’s house and parks, getting out of the car. “Hey, Tommy. Where's your dad?” he asks the little boy riding his bike up and down the driveway. Tommy points into the garage and goes about his biking. Jonathan smirks - he's just like Mike.

“Johnny! You made it okay?” Mike asks, stepping out of the garage.

“Yeah. Sorry it took a little longer, I had company.”

“Oh, you could have told me - I would've said forget it,” Mike saids, directing him inside the garage. “Lady friend?”

“No. Uh, just a friend,” Jonathan answers awkwardly, even though Mike would have no idea about the situation and no reason to suspect anything.

“Oh? And why didn't you invite him over? We could always use more help, eh?” Mike asked.

Jonathan pauses, and thinks to himself: why not? “Uh, he- I, he kind of wanted to stay back. He kind of had a long drive. He’s kinda tired, you know?”

Mike nods. “So, what's really the problem?” he asks, catching Jonathan off guard. “Oh, come on- you used ‘kinda’ three times, you haven't said his name, and you're currently blushing for no reason. What's up?”

Jonathan sighed. Maybe coming over wasn't a good idea. “It's- he,” he starts. He takes a few breaths and furrows his brow. “He told me he, you know, likes me...”

“And I take it he means more than a friend?” Mike asked. Jonathan nodded, blushing again. “So, how do you feel about him?”

“Well, he’s my friend,” Jonathan replies.

“You wouldn't have just left him to come help me if you weren’t having some big crisis about this - I know you, Jonny-boy,” Mike said, winking at him. “Spill it. What’s on your mind, buddy?”

Jonathan sighed. This was not the way he wanted to sort out his feelings. “I don't know, exactly. I've never thought about him like that before, but I can't help thinking maybe...” he trails off, groaning quietly in frustration. “But what if that's just me not wanting to hurt his feelings? He’s my best friend, you know? I’m just afraid that whatever I say will make things worse.”

Mike nods, and then waves Tommy over from the driveway. “Tommy, can you go inside with Mommy for a bit? Me and Jon have to talk grown-up talk for a bit, okay?” Tommy nods and jogs into the house. Jonathan can’t help but be a little impressed at how well-behaved the kid is.

Mike takes a last look around the corner to make sure his son isn't there before continuing. “Okay, Jonathan. Close your eyes. I want you to answer me seriously- no hesitation with your answers. I need you to tell me what you’re feeling after I ask you a question, okay?”

“Nervous...” Jonathan says, forcing smirk. He bites his lip before following his friend’s directions.

“Good. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“We grew up together, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes.”

“Are you comfortable around him?”

Jonathan smiles a little. “Yes.”

“How do you feel when you’re around him?”

“Uh, happy. Comfortable. Relaxed – unless he’s doing something crazy...”

“What about when he's not around?”

“Alone, bored,” Jonathan says.

“What if he gets close to you, physically?”

“Anxious... uh...” Jonathan pauses.

“No hesitation, Jon. Again, what if he gets close to you?”

“Anxious, h-happy?”

“Jonathan - again, he is close to you. Fully dressed, but close to you, touching you. How do you feel?”

“Good.”

“Hot?”

“Yes.”

“Now, he does something crazy again and gets in trouble. How do you feel?”

“Pissed off, nervous... Depressed.”

“Why?”

“Holy shit, Mike,” Jonathan says, his eyes open wide. “I think I might be in love with Patrick.”

Mike claps him on the shoulder. “That'll be fifty-thousand, by the way,” he laughs.

“But, how?”

“I’ve known you forever, buddy. You can’t keep secrets from me,” Mike laughed.

Jonathan blushes. “So, what do I do?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “God, you're useless. Get the fuck out of here and talk to him - the kid’s probably scared shitless.”

“But, I said I'd help you move.”

“I'm pretty sure I can manage moving a couple things without you.”

Jonathan nodded. “Alright, thanks Mike. I mean it.”

 

4

Jonathan comes back to the house to find Patrick asleep. Not surprising, since he was more than just a little bit hung-over, not mention emotionally stressed. Jonathan didn't know if he should wake him or leave him, but decided to let him sleep a little longer while he made lunch.

Jonathan wasn't much of a cook, but he managed to put together some nice sandwiches, cut vegetables (even though he realizes he'll probably be the only one eating them), and glasses of chocolate milk. It wasn't a work of art, but it would probably impress Patrick, whose image of a perfect, home-cooked meal seems to be microwavable burritos and ice cream with beer to wash it down. Unless he can get his mom to come over and cook, that is.

Jonathan looks around his living room for something to bring the trays over with. Nothing with wheels, but he has two TV tables that are easy enough to pull across the carpet without tipping.

After getting the tables inside the bedroom, he turns around to see Patrick sitting up in his bed, staring at him. The look of panic on Patrick's face - which should technically be expected in this situation, but somehow got overlooked- throws Jonathan off, and he stumbles to find words.

“I, uh, I made lunch,” Jonathan says stupidly. Patrick doesn't move, other than shifting his eyes toward the food, his facial expression unchanged. Jonathan sees this as a good time to continue. “I think we need to talk,” he says. He could punch himself for starting with that line.

Patrick nods. “I guess we do,” he says, not moving from his current position.

Jonathan takes Patrick's silence as a cue to keep talking. He sits down beside Patrick, pulling the tables with food on them closer- partially in case Patrick wants to eat, and partially as a way to stall. He hates the anxiety and hurt on Patrick’s face.

“Listen, I'm sorry I left like that. I should have told Mike that you were here and just stayed, but, actually I'm glad I went. I wasn’t sure at first, but sometimes talking everything out really helps you figure out everything in your head.” Jonathan is looking for more words, but the look of absolute confusion on Patrick’s face forces him to just blurt out what he really means. “Pat, I think I feel – actually, I know it. I feel the same way about you. I like you, Pat.”

Patrick doesn't look any more relaxed. “I'm totally okay with you being straight, Jon. You don’t need to pretend for me.” Patrick trails off. “I'll be happy for you when you get married and have some beautiful kids and shit,” he adds.

Jonathan looks dumbfounded. “I'm horrible with kids,” he says.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Fine - Beautiful dogs than. Jeez. Either way, I'll still be your buddy.”

“No, Pat. That's not what I mean. I don't want that. Any of it,” Jonathan tries to explain. “I'm not good with women - you've said it yourself - I'm just not comfortable with them. It doesn't work.”

“Viagra?”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it!” Jonathan runs his fingers quickly through his hair. “I never thought about it before... I just, I’ve always had hockey on my mind and I never had the time to really think about it...”

“You're gay?” Patrick asked, for clarification. Jonathan paused before nodding slowly. “And you like me?” Patrick asked, with a straight, serious face. Jonathan nodded again – this time, without the hesitation. “I'm sorry,” Patrick said, beginning to cry. “I'm being such a cry-baby, but I didn't expect this at all. I just focused on hoping we could still be friends.”

“I didn’t really expect it either, Pat,” Jonathan replies, smiling.

Suddenly, Patrick began pouting. “What's going to happen, like, what if it doesn't work out? Or, what if everyone finds out and they all hate us and ask us to leave the league?”

Jonathan put his arm around Patrick and sighed. “Listen, we'll talk through it some more, but later. Right now, you need a clear head and a shower, because you were up all night drinking and you still smell like alcohol and vomit.”

Patrick nods. “Okay. You're not going to leave?” he asks, still insecure.

“Patrick, you know where I live - there's nothing in Winnipeg, remember?” Jonathan says with a smirk.

“Oh, right. Why don't you live in Vegas or somewhere cool?”

“Because if I lived in Vegas, you'd never make it to my place and you'd leave totally broke.”

“Right, good call,” Patrick laughs. He stands up and begins to take a few steps toward the washroom, but stops abruptly. “I didn't bring any clothes to change into,” he says blushing.

Jonathan shakes his head with a sigh. Of course Patrick wouldn't have thought to bring clothes. “I'll find something for you.”

“Cool,” Patrick replied, turning down the hall. “Thanks,” he added, before shutting the bathroom door.

Jonathan sighs as he looks through his closet, picking out a t-shirt and deciding on pajama pants to go with it. They'll still be big on Pat, but he's the one not packing anything while on a personal crisis-rampage.

Jonathan folds the clothes and grabs a pair of socks, and piles them against his chest as he slowly opens the bathroom door, not bothering to knock first. “S’just me,” he says just loud enough for Pat to hear him over the sound of the shower running. “Clothes are here - hope they're okay.”

“Thanks Tazer, I'll be out in a sec,” Patrick replied. Jonathan turns to leave, his eyes lingering on the light shape shown through the shower curtain for a couple seconds before he shuts the door behind him.

It's not like he hasn't seen him naked a million times before, but there is something about it being in his shower, and a sudden new light on how he viewed Patrick that makes it different.

Patrick walks into the living room after his shower looking slightly unimpressed with the oversized clothes, and Jonathan can't help but smirk.

“It's a good look,” Jonathan suggests.

“Shut up. Just because I like you, doesn't mean I have to like you right now.”

“They're not that big - at least they stay up,” Jonathan points out seriously.

Patrick nods. “I'm kind of tired; mind if we have our big talk later?” he asks with a yawn.

“You slept all day,” Jonathan says, not really protesting.

“But I spent all night drinking,” Patrick replies.

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you're so getting the couch. I'm going to sleep too - your talking and snoring kept me up all night.”

Patrick shrugs, letting his body slide against the back of the couch until he's lying down, his eyes shutting immediately.

Jonathan looks at Patrick and chuckles quietly to himself. Patrick could sleep all day and all night if hockey and eating didn't get in the way.

Jonathan made his way into his bedroom, crawling into his bed- still unmade from this morning. It doesn't take him long to fall asleep either, knowing full well the upcoming discussion is going to be a long one.

5

Jonathan wakes up to the sudden feeling that he is not alone. He opens his eyes to find Patrick's giant blue eyes staring back at him. “Uh, Kaner?”

“Yeah, Jonny?” Patrick asks, seemingly oblivious to Jonathan's confusion.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Jonathan grumbles, still half asleep.

“I woke up. Figured you'd be in here.”

“It's my bedroom; of course I'd be here,” Jonathan replies, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“That's why it's the first place I checked,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes as Jonathan stares at him in disbelief. “Anyway, wanna get up? I’m bored.”

“You won’t leave me alone either way, will you?” Jonathan asks, already pushing himself up before Patrick answers.

“Nope,” Patrick says, smiling as Jonathan gets up. “So, uh. Do you still like me? Like, like-like me?” Patrick asks as they step out of Jonathan's room and make their way to the kitchen.

Jonathan shrugs. “I don't know. I don't like people who wake me up like that.” He pours himself a glass of water from the tap.

“What about blow jobs?” Patrick asks, making Jonathan choke on his water.

“What about what? I mean… what?”

“Blow jobs. Do you like waking up to them?” Patrick asks, and Jonathan can't believe how casual the question sounds.

“Uh, why don't we start with talking about us before we go onto stuff like that?” Jonathan suggests.

“Oh, okay. I suppose we could do that,” Patrick says, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “So, you wanna date?”

Jonathan can feel himself blushing. “I, uh- I guess.”

Patrick frowns. “You don't sound so sure anymore.”

“I am, I mean, I do- I just. It's just… hearing it put like that is a little weird. I never thought of it like that. We'd be dating, you know?”

“So, you don't want to?” Patrick says, sadly.

“That's not what I meant. I do- I just never put it into words. It's weird to think about dating you, even though it makes sense...”

Patrick nods. “Do you want to date me?”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Yes. I like you. I just never- never mind. Yes, I want to be your boyfriend.”

Patrick smiles and Jonathan thinks he looks like he's twelve. “Cool. Wanna play Mario Kart?” ‘Scratch that, maybe he is twelve’, Jonathan thinks to himself, smiling.

“Sure, why not?” Jonathan answers.

They end up playing for a while, but Jonathan gives up trying to beat Patrick at a game he clearly spends too much time playing. Instead, he takes the controller from Patrick and sets it on the table. Before Patrick can protest, Jonathan pulls Patrick close to him and manoeuvres their bodies so they're lying on the couch together.

“Movie instead?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before he changes the channel.

“Sure,” Patrick answers, closing his eyes as he snuggles into Jonathan. It takes Patrick seconds to fall asleep, even though it's midday and he had spent pretty much all day sleeping. Jonathan rolls his eyes, but can't argue - he feels more relaxed than he has in days. He wraps his arms around Patrick, closes his eyes and sighs.

“Thank you for making this so easy,” Jonathan whispers into Patrick’s hair. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.  



End file.
